A Haunting Birthday
by I'mCanadia
Summary: No one remembered Prussia's birthday, so OBVIOUSLY he's a ghost. Gotta love that reasoning. Mainly humour, brieff PruCan
1. Happy AWESOME Birthday!

In Which Prussia Is a 'Ghost'

It's Prussia's birthday. Hilarity ensues. Brief PruCan 

The alarm buzzed loudly, breaking the silence of the early German dawn. Silencing it, the Prussian broke into a huge grin. 

'Finally! It's the most awesome holiday; my birthday!' He rolled out of bed, not bothering to pick his blankets up off the floor and booted up his computer. 

'First, we'll go see MySpace.' He opened his page, and to his surprise there wasn't a single birthday greeting. 

'That's odd…Maybe they're all on my FaceBook…' He frowned when there wasn't a single notification. It was the same story for his Twitter, Tumblr, or even his MyYearbook. 

'Not even my own brother remembered. Next time his ass needs saving, just see if the Awesome Prussian Empire goes out of its way to help. Jerks!' He logged off his computer and swiveled around in his chair. Officially pissed, he threw open his door with a bang and stalked to the kitchen. Feliciano stood over the stove making breakfast. Which would've been normal, had he said good morning. Feli, being the 'slightly' more friendly half of the Italy brothers, never failed to greet Gilbert every morning. 

'Okay…Guess it's my turn…' He cleared his throat. 

"G' morning, Feli." The Italian didn't look up from his pancakes. Prussia growled a little under his breath. 

"I said-" 

"Germany! Good morning! I made pancakes!" Feliciano rushed pass him to throw his arms around West. After detangling himself, Ludwig pulled his chair up next to Gilbert's and began planning their training for the day. Gilbert decided to try his luck with his little brother. 

"Hey, West, could you hand me-?" He stuttered to a stop as Germany leaned around him to grab a plate. 

"Italy, you did finish the mile I set for you yesterday, correct?" Italy started, then tried to make himself appear smaller and more innocent. 

"Ve, it's just I got so tired, that- " A bang cut off the rest of Feli's sentence. Gilbert leaned on the kitchen door he had just slammed. 

'It doesn't make any sense,' he thought, biting his lip, 'I remembered their birthdays-okay, so all I got West was another dirty magazine, but still. I remembered.' Still grumbling, he headed to his room and got back on the computer. After rechecking all his web pages-'Not even the Prussia-is-Awesome fan page!'-he decided to do something he had done only once before. He decided to Google himself. After entering Prussia into the search bar, he clicked the first link that came up. 

"'Prussia shaped the history of Germany.' Well, duh! He's my little brother! 'Success on the battleground against Austria' Oh that was awesome! Blah blah-Wait, 'The End of Prussia?'" The already pale ex-nation grew bone white as he continued reading. When he finally reached the end of the post, he slumped back in his chair with his head in his hands.

MEANWHILE, IN THE KITCHEN 

"Ve, Germany you don't think he suspected anything, do you?" Germany shook his head and drained his coffee. 

"If anything, all we've done is anger him," he said, wiping his hand across his mouth, "Did you remember to send out the invitations?" Italy grinned and pulled a large envelope out of his pocket. 

"The only one left is to the birthday boy himself. I thought we could get his boyfriend, Cana-Canay- ya' know, America's brother- to give it to him." Italy slipped Prussia's invitation back into his pocket and settled himself into Germany's lap, causing the blonde nation to turn red. Italy looked up at him innocently. 

"Germany, do we have to train today?" He batted his eyelashes and pouted. 

"Ah-Italy, I, uh-," he took a deep breath, and then released it with a small grin. "No, I suppose we need all day to plan his party, anyway." 

"Yay!" Italy gave him a small peck on the cheek and ran to get the phone. Thrusting the device into Germany's hands he said, "Could you call America and tell him to send his brother over?"

"You didn't tell America, right? You know he can't keep a secret." 

"No, you told me not to." 

"Good."  
>MEANWHILE, IN THE BEDROOM OF AWESOME <p>

Gilbert's thoughts buzzed rapidly around his head, chasing one until it blurred into the next. 

'There's no way I'm dead. There can't be. The Awesome Kingdom of Prussia is alive! Isn't it? Okay, so I don't make any decisions, and I'm not invited to world meetings, but...It can't be true. No. No way…but, Italy didn't respond to me this morning, and neither did West…If I'm dead, who'll take care of Mattie?'  
>He banged his head on the desk, putting a goose egg in the middle of his forehead. He gave a low whistle, and Gilbird flew down from his perch above Gilbert's bed. <p>

'Well, at least Gilbird can hear me,' he thought rubbing the birds head. 

"Look at me," he said , getting the birds attention, "I want you to go make sure my awesome boyfriend is taken care of, okay?" In a sudden burst of inspiration, he tore a strip off a piece of printer paper and scribbled something down. Tying it to the bird's leg, he added, "Make sure he gets this, okay?" 

Gilbird chirped an affirmative, and nipped Prussia's finger affectionately. In a rush of feathers, he had disappeared out the window and into a brilliant German morning. Gilbert sighed and threw on a pair of jeans. It was time to get some answers, and he knew just where to start.


	2. So, you know magic, right?

**A/N: I want to thank everyone for being so patient! My Internet has been broken for weeks, and I've felt so guilty T~T Anyway, I just wanted to thank the academy for this wonderful hon-**

**Canada: Excuse me, but-**

**K: Who are you?  
>Canada: <strong>** * sighs * I'm Canada.**

**K: Oh right. What do you want?  
>Canada: The disclaimer?<strong>

**K: Oh, right. I don't, in anyway, own any elements in this story but the plot. And Gil.**

**Canada: * threateningly picks up hockey stick **** * Excuse me?**

**K: ^ ^; Just kidding?**

**Prussia: While he's beating the holy hell out of her, on with the story, right?**

**K: Save me! **

**Prussia: You're on your own.**

**((OH, AND SUPER THANKS TO MY ****AMAZING**** BETA WARQUEEN94. :D :D :D I couldn't do it without you, Kiki!))**

Gilbert paced nervously in front of the blonde Englishman's house, debating whether or not to knock or run away. Running his hand through his already tousled hair, he had just decided to leave when Arthur Kirkland threw open the door.  
>"If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times, this is private property and I won't have any bloody tourists gawking at – Oh, God, it's you." Gilbert surveyed the obviously disgruntled British man, already in his spotless uniform, and regretted coming over. But, since the Brit was already outside…<br>"Good morning, Arthur. How are you today?" Gilbert tried to affect a friendly tone. Arthur's eyes narrowed at the Prussian's unusual politeness.

"What is it, Gilbert," he said, his voice ringing with suspicion, "Why in the bloody hell are you here?"

'Well, so much for appealing to his gentlemanly nature,' Gilbert thought.  
>"Look, I have a question, limey." Arthur raised an eyebrow at his abrupt change in tone. Gilbert stared back, challenging him to interrupt. The British man nodded, giving Gil permission to continue.<p>

"I have this…problem. Basically, I died. I want you to do a spell to bring me back to life." He held his breath, waiting for Arthur to scream. Or run. Whatever scared people do when the encounter a ghost. The reaction he got, however, surprised him more than the screaming would have. Arthur, short of being scared, burst out in laughter. This was the sort of laughter that Gilbert, or anyone else for that matter, had never heard from the usually broody Brit.

"That," he gasped, "Is the best laugh I've had in a while. Now get off of my lawn." Still chortling, he turned to go back into his home. Gilbert reached out and grabbed the British man's arm, his eyes finally filling with dread he had been concealing inside.

"No, listen to me," he begged, not letting the man move, "I know it sounds completely insane, but would the awesome me lie about something like this? Okay, so I've lied in the past, but this time I'm being serious!" A note of desperation had entered his voice. Embarrassed, he lowered his arm and cleared his throat, trying to regain control. Suddenly, a yell echoed through the house.

"Iggy! Yo, Iggy, where'd you go, dude?"

"Bloody hell-!" Arthur slammed the door shut, muffling the cries within the house.

"Alright, bloody wanker, get on with your story." Arthur said flustered, a deep red hue creeping into his cheeks. Gilbert managed to crack a smile for the first time that morning.

"Ya' sure? I mean, Alfie sounded a little desperate in ther-."

"Do you want me to throttle you?"

"Alright, get your panties out of a twist." And so he began to relate the whole story, while unbeknownst to them someone watched from behind the hedges.

**MEANWHILE, IN THE HEDGES**

"Oh, hon hon hon. This will be fun; oh, mon ami Gilbert. What a wonderful prank!"

**BACK WITH THE OTHER TWO IDOTS :)**

"And that's seriously what happened!" Gilbert had just finished his story, and was getting irritated at the amused look on the Brit's face. "I'm serious!" Arthur raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"This story of yours is ludicrous, and you really expect me to believe that you really die-!"

"Angelterré!" Iggy flinched at the voice.

"Oh, no. Not him. Please, God, not him. Please, don't let it be-." Arthur turned and stood face to face with Francis Bonnefoy.

"Oh, Arthur, have you heard? It's the most awful news," the Frenchman cried into a black handkerchief, his shoulders shaking, "I didn't want to believe it at first, but the evidence is irrefutable. H-h-he's gone!" He collapsed into sobs against Arthur's shoulder.

"Francis…who's gone? What's the matter? And why in the bloody hell are you at my house?" Arthur pushed the still sniffling man off of him, and then did a double take. The normally immaculate Frenchman's hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were puffy and red. The normal flamboyant purple of his clothes was replaced with a sombre black ensemble, and he kept blowing his nose into his handkerchief.

"You haven't heard? The t-tr-train. In Munich…they said he wa-was standing by the end of the rail station, a-a-and the ra-rail broke and he fell on the tracks…the train was right there, and it c-couldn't stop in time…The body was uni-unidentifiable, except for little yellow bird singing mournfully nearby…Poor, poor Gilbert." Arthur's eyes widened, and he glanced at Gilbert, whose inscrutable expression gave no reference to the turmoil within. Francis, not noticing the albino, mopped his eyes and continued sobbing. Turning on his heel, he called over his shoulder.

"I just thought you ought to know. Y-you seem more comfortable with Ludwig, so I was ho-hoping you could tell him f-f-for me." He wiped another tear from his eye. "I have to go tell Antonio. I…I don't think he knows yet." Without another word, the Frenchman headed out the gate and down the road. As soon as he was out of sight and around the corner, he smirked.

'Oh, Gil; this will be fun.' Flipping open his cell, he dialled his best friends number.

"Buenos dias," came the sleepy voice from the other side of the line.

"Tonio, I've got to tell you something."

**BACK WITH ENGLAND AND PRUSSIA**

"Okay, I understand now, git. But I hate to burst your bubble; there is no regenerative life spell. I can' t put you back in a body without making you a zombie, and…well you're body doesn't sound likes it's in good condition." He took a long drag on his cigarette, and blew a smoke ring across the porch. "What a fine mess we've gotten ourselves in."

Gilbert snorted. "What do you mean 'we'? You're still alive, aren't you?" He laughed nastily, then rested his head in his hands. "I'm sorry if I sound pissy, but you don't die everyday, you know." Arthur shook his head.

"No, I can't imagine being in your shoes. This really is a bad situa-." The front door flew open. An energetic American came bounding down the front porch steps.

"Yo, Iggy, I found you! Why didn't you say you were- Albino dude! Whatssup! What're you doing here?"

"It's Gilbert." Gilbert said with a venomous tone.

"Whatever."

Arthur cut in. "Well, Alfred, it's a long story…"

**MEANWHILE IN CANADA**

Matthew woke up to the tapping of a beak against his window. Stretching, he grinned when he saw Gilbird sitting patiently on the window ledge.

"Hello, little bird," he said, opening the window to let him inside, "What're you up to?" Gilbird hopped inside and allowed Mattie to affectionately rub his head. Then, chirping, he indicated the letter tied to his leg. The Canadian grinned and removed the letter; eager to read whatever his boyfriend had sent for him, he swiftly scanned the short note. His grin faded to a small frown as he read, his lips silently forming the words.

Dear Vögelchen,

I need to figure some things out.

I'll talk to you later today, promise.

Gil

P.S. I love you

'That's…odd. Yes, odd,' he thought, biting his lip. The note seemed a little serious compared to the silly notes he usually received.

"Do you know what's up?" he asked the little bird, reading the note again. As if in answer, the bird went into a flurry of fast chirping. Bemused, Mattie stared at the bird and nodded.

'If you say so…though I wish you really could talk,' he thought to himself, tucking the letter into his pocket, 'Ah, well. He said he'd get in touch, so he will.' He headed to the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head. Time for pancakes.

**ONCE MORE IN ENGLAND, THIS TIME IN A CLOSET**

"America, get out of the bloody closet!"

"NO! YOU LET A FREAKING GHOST IN THE HOUSE AND NOW I'M SCARED AND I WON'T COME OUT UNTIL HE'S GONE AND YOU CAN'T MAKE MEEEEE!" Gilbert sighed, frustrated.

"Is he always this much of an idiot?" Arthur smiled weakly.

"Generally, yes. And he does hate ghosts, ever since he was little." Gil groaned banged his head against the wall.

"This is going to be a long day, isn't it?"

"Probably."

"Scheiße."


	3. Gilbert the Friendly Ghost

**A/N: Wow, so sorry for the excessively long wait xD**

**I was in a bit of a writing rut for the longest time, so this is kind of a shortish-inbetween-chapter-not- really-a-chapter kind of thing.**

**Thank you for sticking by this for so long! I love reviews and constructive criticism, so lay all your thoughts/concerns/hate/love on me. :)**

**I do not own any of the characters, but the idea is my own.**

**Enjoy!**

Alfred had finally come out of the closet, but wouldn't sit anywhere near the 'creepy as hell dead guy.' In fact, he seemed to be trying to keep Arthur away from Gilbert as well.

"Alfred, you idiot, let me go!" The American currently had Arthur pinned against the wall, holding his face so that the man was looking him in the eyes.

"How do I know he hasn't used his freaky powers to possess you? How do I know it's really you talking to me?" His voice took on an edge of panic. "How do I know you're still you?" As ridiculous as all this sounded, Gilbert couldn't help but feel a little insulted at the accusations Alfred had been throwing up against him. He may have been a dick while he was alive, but that didn't make him inherently evil as a spirit. Hell, he could be Gilbert the friendly ghost for all they knew!

"Alfred," Arthur said, struggling to soften his tone, "Think for one bloody moment. If I were possessed, don't you think you'd know me well enough to notice?"

"If he wanted to trick me, it wouldn't be too difficult."

"He's not lying, Brit. I think I could be pretty awesome at impersonating you," Gilbert chimed in. "Also, he's kind of dense." Arthur threw him a filthy look.

"You aren't helping, jerk."

"Sorry." Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes and looked back to Alfred. The usually reckless American was genuinely worried for his wellbeing.

"Look, how can I prove to you I'm not possessed?" Alfred thought for a moment, then grinned.

"I know! Remember what you said to me last night?" The British man turned pink.

"Yes, I remember."

"Say it again!" Arthur hesitated for a second, then leaned over to America's ear and whispered furiously, cheeks now burning crimson. Alfred's eyes widened and he released his grip on the blushing Brit.

"Okay. I'll believe you." He turned to Prussia. "I've got my eye on you, Casper."

"Gilbert."

"Whatever." Alfred edged slowly around the room and darted into the kitchen.

"Your boyfriend is an idiot." Arthur snorted.

"I'm aware. He's also sweet, brave and would do anything to help a friend," he replied, and a small grin stole across his face. He sobered quickly though. "We have bigger problems to deal with than Alfred's I.Q." Gilbert plopped down on the couch and stretched. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Alfred's face, vulnerable and panicked, kept flashing through his mind. But why? It almost…hurt, the way it was affecting him. Why?

"Gilbert." He was pulled out of his thoughts by Arthur calling his name, presumably more than once.

"Hmm? Sorry, what? I was wrapped up in something else."

"Clearly. I was saying we needed to find a way to put your spirit at rest…If that's what you wanted, of course."

"You mean disappear? Leave forever? Join the heavenly choir? No thanks. I still have some living to do." The look in England's eyes was sickening to Gilbert. He neither wanted nor needed Arthur's pity.

"You understand that you'll slowly start to fade out, right? France couldn't see you, and you're one of his best friends. I have no clue why I can still see you, or why America can for that matter. There might be a day where I can't anymore, and then you'd be left here forever, no hope of escaping." His words felt like a flames licking against Gilbert's skin, but Prussia merely stared past him, not acknowledging his words. There it was again, Alfred's face, so similar to…Mattie. Pain, an ache like he had never felt before seized him. He let out a gasp and pressed his hand over his heart. No more Mattie. No more Vögelchen. No more silly notes, picnics, stupid arguments. No more making up, no more kisses in the moonlight, no more anything. Nothing. His eyes began tearing up at the thought of losing his everything. His shoulders shook with repressed sobs, and he clutched at the ring sparkling on his hand. A promise he'd have to break. Pain.

"Gilbert? Gilbert, get it together!" His head snapped up at England's voice, at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. He jerked back quickly, scrambling up from the couch.

"I need…I need a bathroom." Arthur, still looking worried, nodded.

"It's through the kitchen, down the hall, first door on the left." Gilbert nodded and walked quickly through the house, still choking back sobs. Alfred leapt guiltily away from the door as he entered.

"Are…Are you alright, ghost dude?" Gilbert managed a nod and kept walking, almost running in his haste to get to the bathroom. He swept in, pulled the door closed and slid down to sit on the floor, finally letting tears flow freely, a broken nation; a broken man. He reached with shaking fingers into his coat pocket and pulled out the slightly worn picture of him and Mathieu on their first date. Tracing the outline of their smiles, he let himself dissolve completely into tears as the world faded black around him.


End file.
